Arcee Mayhem
by Luke Moy
Summary: Arcee goes on a killing spree which results in some pretty bad consequences...
1. Chapter 1 Mayhem

Arcee stood, wiping the oozing Energon from her cut shoulder. This was far more of a challenge than she had originally intended it to be. But she liked it! Her opponents approached her, smiling, holding their daggers and many rifles loosely in their hands. She looked around. Everyone had gone from the pub.

She should take out Dirge first. He would be an easy one to wipe from the list. Yeah, go for it! Arcee narrowed her eyes, and drew her Energon sword. Arcee had the optimum physic for a melee combatant, plus the form of the ideal female Cybertronian. Agility and grace marked her path of fulminated destruction, and while the average Autobot avoided killing, the average Autobot also wanted to keep their assorted limbs intact, so they usually let Arcee execute her own battle strategy.

And so she leapt, flipping twice in the air, avoiding the hail of gunfire as it came rushing from bellow. Her target was moving now, running to get a clearer shot at her. Adapt, she thought, and switched her course accordingly.

She landed next to Dirge. Not expecting this, the Decepticon attempted to put some distance between himself and the distempered Autobot. Mistake. Grabbing his arm, Arcee twisted herself until she had him in a headlock, and his arm broke.

The sizzle of the circuits dying gave the raved female great pleasure, and she kneed him next in the back. The armor on his back was heavy, but gave way under her power to a flourishing wave of wires and gears. This was the fun part.

Still holding him, Arcee bent down and clutched one of her blue daggers in hand. She began to cut, aiming for the circuits that when cut caused the most pain. Dirge screamed as Arcee sliced a crass path with her dagger from his outer armor directly to his spark. Arcee could not contain a grin.

"There it is," she whispered softly in his ear and, now caressing his head, gently pulled the spark from his body. The death was instantaneous. His body went limp, and Arcee pocketed the pulsing blue ball of energy in her belt.

Dirge's murder was met with momentary silence as the other Decepticons processed what had happened. Arcee kicked the corpse to the side, swinging her long dagger in her hand lazily. One of the Decepticons made what most would consider a wise move and ran, crashing out the door. Arcee made no pursuit.

Hmm, she pondered. Should she take out Bludgeon or Blackout next? The former was a very skilled swordsman, and she had dreamt of taking him out ever since she witnessed him in combat; the latter, a veteran war general; plenty of experience in brute force tactics and bladed weaponry. She chose the latter.

To work, then. Arcee crouched low, running now. A third Decepticon raised his blaster, aiming at her head. He fired, though his aim was off, and the missile, first streaking over several tables, landed taking out Arcee's left shoulder. She screamed, ripping the remains of her arm out of its socket. It was replaceable, though that fact did not stop the pain from shooting across her upper body. Arcee stumbled, the pain overwhelming her. The Decepticon phalanx advanced, blasters and swords at the ready. Bringing her long dagger about, she eyed the armada. Her eyes once again rested on Blackout. He was a tall, lumbering fellow, with a sickly face, and an even more sickly and disproportionate body. His arms were huge, stumpy husks, while his legs were spindly and attenuated.

His form was something that people often overestimated. He was bulky and lumbering, but he was also quick and displayed a nimbleness not normally associated with such a figure. Only a couple of yards now. She could make the strike. Sloppily, Arcee summersaulted, sprang into the air, and slashed down with her sword. It didn't work. Blackout caught the blade aimed at his head with two of his six fingers and easily flicked it out of Arcee's hand, sending her flying.

Arcee adjusted her center of gravity, looking for something in that split second to grab on to. Blackout's arm was lowering; a perfect handhold. Arcee took her chance, grabbed his arm, and scrambled up his humungous form, compensating for her one lost limb via her legs. She manifested a small dagger from her right wrist gauntlet and jammed it into his neck. He barely noticed. A few other Decepticons took a shot at her, and one of them landed on the small of her back.

Cursing, Arcee pulled the knife out. Flipping off of the giant, she spun, twirling in mid-air. Sliding on the ground, she made for the first of the three other combatants. Gripping her knife tightly, Arcee swung her arm about, arcing the blade. The blade made solid contact with the neck of the small combatant, taking his head clean off of his body.

Still sliding, Arcee turned to her second distractor, a tall and lanky green robot. Readying her knife, Arcee used her remaining momentum to carry her to the opponent, slicing down with her knife.

The arc landed from the combatant's shoulder to his crotch, slicing him diagonally in half (had she her other arm, the arc would have sliced the bot cleanly in half). The strain on Arcee's form was gaining force, and even as the spark of the dead Decepticon bounced once to the ground, Arcee had to sacrifice her knife in order to catch it. She pocketed it, and turned, dodging a second blast from Blackout to pick up her blade.

Arcee then leapt back onto the lumbering giant and made for the small of his back. Her versatility in combat allowed her crude access to his circuitry beneath his heavily armored back. Blackout grunted, reaching behind him and grabbing her by the waist. He flung her around, now holding her at arm's length.

Arcee, still holding her dagger, thrust her arm up, jamming the knife into the bottom of Blackout's forearm. He let go, and while his screams occupied his train of thought, she managed to come around to his back again and slice away, grinning as she did so.

A complex tesseractal net heavily guarded his spark core. She now produced a small versatile welding torch from her hip and, holding the knife in her mouth, heated the blade. Seven thousand degrees kelvin should be enough to melt him. She replaced the torch, and stuck the broiling blade into Blackout's back. While his screams of anger over his wounded arm were fierce, the cries that came out of him now were such that even Arcee could feel the slightest tingle of remorse course through her body.

And then she twisted the blade, and assaulted upward into his neck. His screams became shriveled wines as his vocal processors were slowly being twisted around the sticky searing blade. He fell forward, Arcee nimbly jumping off. Blackout landed with a thud, and she wrenched out his spark from his lifeless shell. Trophy number four.

Arcee pinpointed the Decepticon who had severed her arm. This one was cowardly through looks alone, and his personality did nothing to dissuade that certainty. He met her eyes, and his face turned from readiness to shock, as he saw the heated powered-up welding torch fly towards his face. The screams were sickening, though sicker still was the image of the poor combatant's face as the torch landed, immediately eviscerating his eyes, then moving quickly over his entire head. Then Arcee was there, standing over the headless warrior. She knelt and, holding his body down with one foot, ripped open his chest with her hand. A hollow creaking sound followed. She yanked past the inner armor and wires that preserved his spark and yanked the glowing blue ball out of his chest. She looked at it, smiling. She liked these symbols of life: such tiny things were to give life to such monstrous creatures such as herself.

She felt the impact as she pocketed the spark; a fist collided with her abdomen and she flew back, unable to right herself. Standing, she looked around to see whose hand she should cut off. Bludgeon, a tall lanky samurai-looking robot, whose head was that of a skull, came lunging at her, sword in hand. She sidestepped. The assailant summersaulted behind her, spinning as he did so, swiping his sword around to slice her in two.

Arcee felt the blade enter the left side of her chest, clean and deadly. She fell, her remaining hand shooting out to nurse the open wound. Bludgeon would have smirked had he muscles to allow for such minute articulation. Instead he looked down upon her with that hideous monotonous grin that accompanied those red hollow eye sockets. Arcee rolled, ignoring the pain of the wounds she had sustained, grabbing her sword on the way. Managing to get back up onto her feet, she met the next swing with her own blade. If Bludgeon's eyes could emote, surprise would have flickered through them only for an instant. He advanced, jabbing teasingly at his opponent.

Arcee parried his attacks with the motions of like-mockery, though her face emoted no amount of wit. Bludgeon spun, a roundhouse kick colliding with Arcee's chest, making the open wound that much more seditious, as now more Energon leaked from the cut. Falling, Arcee looked up to see Bludgeon raise his sword for a killing strike.

The sword came down!

Arcee's hand caught hold of Bludgeon's arm, twisting and guiding it, along with the sword, into Bludgeon himself. Caught by surprise, the samurai reeled back, grabbing at his wound. Arcee leapt, came down and dropkicked her foe by the hilt of the wound-generating sword. The sword sunk deeper into Bludgeon's chest, while Arcee landed nimbly on the balls of her feet. A further roundhouse kick was all it took to incapacitate Bludgeon, knocking him to the ground. Arcee wrenched the sword out from Bludgeon's form, the tip of the blade carrying his spark. Arcee stood, smirking. The other Decepticon combatants didn't move.

"He was our bravest," one of the Decepticons said, referring to Bludgeon.

"Then I guess you guys must be bottom tier on Megatron's list if that was all you could give," said Arcee. She didn't really mean it. Her back and chest were cut deeply, and her entire left arm was no longer hers to wield! These guys were certainly top notch.

"Megatron will hear of this evisceration, He will come after your head! He'll send hordes of troops after you for what you have done! He's coming." The dominion departed, plumes of smoke and jet exhaust followed in their wake.

Arcee looked up at the retreating army. "He knows where to find me," she whispered, cradling the five sparks on her belt.


	2. Chapter 2 Deals with the Devil

The sky's cloudy demeanor made the black shape all the more ominous. Streaking down low over the mountains, the jet stopped, hovering ever so slightly, and then transformed.

Panels and plates moved over each other. The rear of the jet split by way of twelve, each piece moving quickly into position. Flipping, the debacle of a jet completed its transformation, and there stood Megatron.

"I was beginning to suspect that you would not show up at all," a voice said. Turning, Megatron's eyes narrowed.

"And what exactly am I here for," asked Megatron, smiling.

"You're going to help me. You got my calling card?"

"Oh, indeed. And what a lovely mess you made of my men."

"Not very hard."

"Oh, please." Megatron waved a hand. "They nearly killed you. But you are correct in assuming that they were merely my foot soldiers. They were indeed. As you have bested the prelude of what the Decepticons are truly like, I suspect that you have made enhancements to your exoskeleton structure, Arcee." Megatron's eyes ran down the female's slim form. "I am impressed."

And he had every right to be: Arcee's arm had since been replaced; now sporting the latest Autobot weapons technology available, her physique was far more battle-laden. Two knives clung to her belt, accompanied by the sparks of those whom she had slain not three days ago. Complementing those was a rifle slung over her shoulder, and a bulky looking gun that hung limply by her side, below the sword.

"I see you've… upgraded. I suspect you've been equipped with ablative trans-phasic combat armor?"

"Yes," said Arcee, a little sheepishly.

"Impressive, though I must say," Megatron said, gesturing at the bulky weapon "it doesn't suit you. You seem far too elegant for that sort of thing. The rifle, too; it seems too big. The daggers, on the other hand, those are a woman's weapon…"

Arcee cut him off. "Stop with the flattery, Megatron. I need your help in killing someone."

"You seem to have no trouble in that particular capacity. Why call upon me?"

"Because this particular opponent is one who often gets you and the Decepticons into trouble."

"Oh, and to whom are you referring?" Megatron furrowed his brow.

"Starscream."

Megatron's eyes widened, if only for a moment. Arcee smiled. She had him hooked. "You want my help in defeating Starscream? Why?" Megatron's tone had changed. No longer was if filled with the confidence and gravitas of before. Now it was Arcee's turn to be smug.

"Why not? He's been nothing but trouble for you and your team. Why not take him out?"

Megatron clasped his hands behind his back, bowing slightly before taking a step forward. "Because, while my personal feelings for Starscream are not above reproach, his knowledge and usefulness to the Decepticons is far too valuable. If I were to help you, I would perhaps be doing both you and I a favor, but I would be then at the mercy of my troops, of whom only a handful would think our collaboration a worthwhile endeavor." Megatron turned his back to the female, gazing out into the landscape of Cybertron.

"I would think that with him gone, you would have a far better chance of being rid of the Autobots," said Arcee.

Megatron turned hastily, his eyes ablaze. "Do not insult my tactics! I will be rid of your faction soon enough. But tell me, why is it that you take an interest in the Air Commander? What has he done to you personally?"

"He killed a partner of mine."

"Did he?" Megatron smiled maliciously, revealing sharpened razor teeth. "And who was this partner of yours? Was he a colleague of Optimus's?"

Arcee looked up into Megatron's looming face. She glared into those hideous red eyes. Megatron backed off in mock cowardice. "Perhaps not," he grunted. "So, Arcee, you want revenge, and you suspect my motives are of a similar origin, yes? Though the offer is growing increasingly tempting, I'm afraid that I cannot help you. Find another to assist in your massacre. Nobody summons Megatron." Megatron turned, but Arcee caught his arm.

"Please." She pulled him back. "I need your help." Her demeanor was now softened. She was pleading.

"Hm." Megatron pondered, thinking how he could spin this to his advantage. "What do I get in return?"

"You get to have a thorn removed from your services, and you thus are able to destroy the Autobots that much quicker in the long run."

"And why the preoccupation with the destruction of the Autobots? You wear their badge yet you treat them as one would treat an animal for slaughter. Are you not proud of your allegiance?"

Arcee's stare was dead now. "No," she said flatly.

Arcee let Megatron's arm go. Megatron thought for a moment, then said, "Very well. I will help you, but when this is over, do not expect my men to be lenient to you. Expect the opposite. As long as you stay out of our way, you will be safe. If we find you, we will not hesitate to kill."

"Fine. Where is he?"

"Ah, hasty are we?" Megatron smiled again. Though however pitiful Arcee may act, she was not one to be underestimated, and Megatron would fall for none of her guile. "I lead you there, and we take him out. He has undoubtedly amassed quite a number of troops against me."

"Then I guess you'll be busy."

"And you won't?"

"I can handle it. How will we get to wherever he is?"

"Obvious, no? We fly." Megatron pulled Arcee close and took to the sky once more. Arcee made no attempt to free herself. She would tolerate the poison of the Decepticon Supremacy so long as she could kill his second-in-command. Collusion though this was, she could live with it… she could live.

The wind ripped past them like knives. Megatron climbed and climbed, past the clouds, steadying his ascent only at the upper atmosphere. Arcee's temperature gauge read hers at negative twenty degrees Celsius. She shivered in spite of herself. Megatron hovered there, gazing at the horizon.

"What is it," Arcee asked, impatiently. "What do you see?"

"There," Megatron murmured. He bolted, heading toward a speck of silver set against the beauteous Cybertronian night sky. Megatron's grip tightened around Arcee's waist. Arcee welcomed his gentlemanly manners with grudging reverence.

As they drew nearer, her memory of the vessel came back to her: it was the Nemesis, the Decepticon warship. She had ventured near it twice before, once on a scouting mission with her now-deceased partner, and once before that with the Autobot Wrecker Infantry Force. Both missions were failures because of her. She would assure success this time 'round.

They landed. Arcee drew herself away from Megatron as quickly as she could. Megatron cocked his head, trying to remember where that airlock hatch was… ah, there. He strolled over to the bulkhead, insouciantly knocking on the door. Arcee looked around instinctively. Stupid; there was no one else out here. She was surprised, then, to hear the door open.

"Megatron sir!" the voice was startled, undoubtedly by the fact that Megatron would choose such an incongruous way to enter his own ship. "Was your trip a success?"

"Indeed, Kickback. But while it was a triumph, the results do not bode well for you." Megatron seized Kickback by his head and nonchalantly yanked it off of his body. The body fell, and Megatron strolled into the ship with not so much a glance at Arcee.

Arcee, impressed at Megatron's vindictive yet pitiless actions, followed suit, noting that, had she and Megatron done battle on the mountaintop, she would have surely been defeated. But that was, of course, not what had happened. And so, here she was with the power to take down her enemy in the form of her factions' enemy, who was, for the moment, her uneasy ally. While Megatron had the advantage of being on friendly ambit, Arcee had to crouch low to avoid interaction with her opponent's friends. Arcee felt jaded, probably from the flight, and Megatron had to catch her twice to stop her from falling.

"I'm fine," Arcee grumbled, shoving herself out of Megatron's arms. She paused, feeling but an iota of remorse for her partner. "Thanks," she blurted,

Megatron wasted no time in twisting his ally's emotions to his advantage. "Ah, feeling a little guilty, are we? Perhaps a morsel of regret toward your enemy."

"Don't flatter yourself." Arcee shot him a glare.

"Hurmph," Megatron grunted. Arcee looked around, and her eyes widened. Standing not twenty yards away were two Decepticon drones. Megatron had noticed them as well.

Transforming her new arm into its weapon mode, Arcee tried to duck behind a wall, but Megatron drew her close, whispering to her. "You play the part of prisoner, and I'll court you 'cross these halls, lest you be shot at." Arcee nodded, and put on her best "battle-fatigue" face that she could muster. This was not easy, as she had not been in many battles where she had lost.

The troops let Megatron pass, though skepticism ran across their faces as he did so. Arcee had little time to reassemble her arm into its ambulatory form before the guard at the entrance to the next door noticed them. With a salute, the trooper let Megatron through, and Arcee gasped.

She had been brought into what she could only guess was the main bridge of the ship. A central seat looked out over a vast display of consoles, each displaying different data. Above them, and in the direct line of sight of the current Bridge Commander, was the view screen, currently showing the vast night sky to all. And seated in the command chair was Starscream.

"Welcome back, Lord Megatron." Starscream's voice dripped with false respect. "Ah, we have a prisoner." Starscream leaned down, stroking Arcee's cheek. Her head jerked back, and Arcee could feel the rage bubbling to the surface. Megatron's hand tightened on her shoulder.

Starscream laughed. Megatron was now gripping Arcee's shoulder so tightly that his hand was beginning to shake. Starscream noticed, and a look of puzzlement ran across his face.

"If I may be so bold, why have you brought her here?" Starscream spread his arms in grand gesture.

"Because I wanted to exemplify what happens to those who attempt to stab me in the back. I wanted to let them know that I know of their groveling and their supposedly devious machinations." Megatron had Starscream nervous now. Starscream backed away, trying to mask his cowardice with a stupendously low bow, his head crest brushing the ground. "Execution seemed like the most poignant of ways to ensure that message's reception, yes?"

"Of… coarse. Your all-seeing wisdom is absolute…" Starscream's eyes still rested on the floor.

"Yes," Megatron mused. "It is certainly far better than your attention to prisoners."

"What?" Starscream looked up frantically. Arcee had disappeared. "Where did she-"

SMACK! Starscream careened over the side of the deck. Arcee sprang for her hiding place above Megatron and began to free-fall after him. She couldn't stop herself. Don't make it personal. Just another lackey to be dealt with.

Starscream felt the shock of the first punch leave him as Arcee tackled him to the ground. Smoke and debris encircled the pair of combatants. Megatron dove down from the observatory command deck, taking out two Decepticon guards as he did so. Security would be on their way.

Not long, now.

Within the cloud of wreckage, Arcee fended for herself as best she could. She swung the giant plasma rifle around from her back, pointing the deadly weapon at Starscream. The shot rang out against the walls of the deck, shooting even more debris into the air. Starscream flipped, kicking the massive weapon out of Arcee's hands. Arcee doubled back. Quickness and nimbleness were the techniques she was most accustomed to, and Starscream would exercise the better part those skills in combat himself, engaging her in hand-to-hand.

Arcee's mind went into its Scenario Mode.

Scenario: Wild haymaker to the jaw; blocked with elbow. Follow up with kick to diaphragm; blocked again, this time by left hand. Flick; sends opponent upward. Flip. Land on feet. Rebound; gain the upper hand. Draw weapons: two serrated daggers. Draw weapons; extended razor claws. At it again; parry, dodge, spin, perhaps a jab or two. Nothing major. Elusion: best chance to stay alive. Block blade by interlacing claws; keep the blade restricted. Render other blade useless. How? Engage the legs. Side step attempted run-up. Kick to left knee. Buckle under pressure. Blade rendered useless, remember. Upper cut; fly back. Land. Locate weapon. Second blade. Draw. Elude. Claws and arms weakening. Advantage? Keep it together. Lunge low. Require digression; explosion to the left. Anticipate digression. Ignore. Digression unsuccessful. Compensate. Null rays. Fire. Dodge. Backhand to left side. Spin, right yourself. Follow-up with direct assault. Punch. Absorb. Too much? Perhaps. Too little. Black out. Advantage. Crush with knee to gullet. Asphyxiation. Death: inevitable. Blade: advantage. Jab. Unexpected. Off the throat. Knee to eyes. Blinded. Compensate: fire weapon. Blast catches the blade. Lucky shot: blade out of reach now. Recover sight. Draw pistol. Deploy null-ray.

Execute. Arcee's eyes glowed bright blue, as she and Starscream danced the motions just as she had envisioned them. Then she looked up. Starscream aimed his null-ray cannon squarely at her head. She steadied her hand, aiming for his chest. They were at a standstill. Armor.

Normally, Arcee hated upgrades. She preferred to fight with her brain, fists, simple tools, tools that were hers. Here, however, she welcomed the armor, and deployed it hastily. A blue aura surrounded her. Panels slid about, encasing her body in a form-fitting silver suit. Interface with the armor's weapons was instantaneous. Starscream fired.

The shot bounced off of her like a pin, and she jumped high, absorbing fire like air. Starscream was nervous now, taking more steps back from his opponent. He needed her back on his own field. Vehicle mode.

Starscream transformed, his wings spreading wide, his legs collapsing into sections, and his arm splitting into pieces, each flipping over to form a solid block of fuselage, revealing weaponry associated with his newly formed jet mode. He took to the skies immediately, soaring high over the deck.

Arcee, barely noticing Megatron stepping aside to let her pass, jumped up, clinging to a railing. Pulling herself upward, she deployed her wrist-mounted torpedoes and fired. Her shot hit the jet squarely in its belly, sending it off coarse. Starscream adjusted, but his jet motif was beginning to lose its structure. He transformed, landing.

His wings and chest were steaming; these torpedoes were new, and he didn't like them. He turned, deploying his weapons. Arcee walked toward him, her torpedo launcher aimed at his head. She would finish him now. Starscream smiled, and pointed his gun down, firing at the floor just beyond Arcee's feet. The shockwave was intense, as the debris formed a wall, bombarding Arcee, sending her flying backward. Starscream quickly followed this up with a barrage of null-ray fire at her, consuming her in a plume of smoke.

Arcee hurtled backward into the wall. Starscream followed, charging Arcee, null-rays firing. Arcee was caught, bombarded. Her wounds were becoming more and more severe. Attempts to get back on her feet were rendered futile, as barrage after barrage of artillery came hurtling toward her. Her new armor had been pierced, her normal garb doing nothing in preventing the fact that she was dying. Energon collected around her, percolating the floor with an ominous hiss. Activation of her newfound weapons was pointless; she didn't have the power reserves for such actions. Even the casing itself was only preventing her from crumbling to pieces. She could see Starscream's smile, advancing toward her. She was dead. She felt it. Her spark of life was waning.

Was this what her partner saw before he died? Killed by this maniac? She would end up like him pretty soon if she didn't do something. She tried to stand again, ignoring the pain this time. Starscream was standing over her now. He pointed his null-ray cannon down, aiming between her eyes. She felt the gun press into her head. Do it, already. Fire the damn weapon!

She heard the voice. "Starscream."

No… Arcee closed her eyes.

Starscream turned. "Ah, Lord Megatron. The prisoner has been apprehended," he said, bowing once more.

"Good," said Megatron, aiming his fusion cannon downward. "You're no longer of use to me." Starscream looked up, and his eyes grew wide. Megatron fired.

Arcee felt both relief and rage course through her body. Megatron killed Starscream. Megatron! No. No!

"NO!" she screamed. The Energon rush was exhilarating. The pain was gone. She leapt to her feet, rushing Megatron. She collared him around the neck and threw him to the ground. "This was my fight! Me! You don't get to finish it!"

Megatron got up, smiling. Arcee made no move to stop him on either count. "Arcee, please. Your dance was pathetic. You had your shot and you missed. I did as I agreed. I helped you kill him, and I leave you be." Arcee was on her knees, shaking. "Whatever your condition now is of no consequence to me," said Megatron, lowering himself so as to be eye-to-eye with her. "We had an agreement, and I saw it through to the end. Now get up."

Megatron put his hand on her shoulder and helped her up onto her feet. "You require medical attention. I'll drop you off at the nearest Autobot outpost and be on my way."

"Why… did you help me?" Arcee fumbled the words. "He could have killed me, and you could have taken him out afterward."

"Because Starscream didn't deserve to kill you, and his doing so would have prevented me from engaging you in the future at your prime."

They walked out of the bridge. Security officers rushed up to meet them, pointing their weapons at the wounded Arcee. Megatron stopped, raising his hand. "Hold your fire. I'll deal with this one. Oh, and when you go in there," he gestured to the door the lead to the bridge, "clean up the mess, and don't ask questions. It's embarrassing." The men obeyed, sauntering onto the bridge in unison.

Arcee thought about what she had done, where she was, whom she was with. Megatron had saved her. She was thankful, and disgusted. A Decepticon had saved her; the worst of them all. The leader, who had killed so many of her allies, who had done battle with Optimus.

"So that's it then. The deal's done." Arcee looked down at her battered body. What had she done?

"Feeling that guilt course through your system again, Arcee? Hurts, no?"

"I've sinned."

"Oh, please." Megatron rolled his eyes.

"I have! I've committed treason against the Autobot army. I've crucified my name and the name of the Autobots. The name of my partner…"

"Perhaps. But you did a remarkable thing today. You helped kill Starscream. Starscream! One of the main players in the Decepticon army! The fulcrum of our Arial Combat Unit. You've dealt us a heavy blow. So, this is a huge victory for the good guys! You may have instigated the final phase of this entire war. Oh, and if your conscience is bothering you, you can put it at ease with the knowledge that you changed the coarse of history, and all it cost was the life of one Decepticon Arial Commander, and the self-respect of one Autobot mercenary. I don't know about you, but I'd call that a bargain." Megatron smiled down at her as they strolled onto the outside of the warship.

He thought he knew, but he hadn't deduced everything. She'd been okay with the entire arrangement from the beginning. Did she hate herself for it? She had slowly succumbed to Megatron's charms and gravitas for revenge. She'd made this personal. But the most damning thing of all for her was she could live with it. She could live with it. And if she had to do it all over again…

"I would," Arcee whispered, gazing at the rising Cybertronian sun.


	3. Chapter 3 Repercussions

Arcee ran. She could feel her body carrying her quickly through the street as the rain came crashing down. Her legs were aching, and the rain pitter-pattered against her form like cold needles. Ice was beginning to condense around her collar and thighs; she did not like the cold. She veered around a corner and scrambled up a low-set roof. She heard the voices; they were getting closer. She shivered.

"Arcee, halt!"

She did not halt. The voice belonged to the one person who she had tried to avoid for all her career as an Autobot mercenary. She hated him. She turned and tumbled off the roof, summersaulting in the air, landing with a thud on the slick pavement. Her body ached. She fired a couple blind shots behind her, attempting to distract her pursuers.

They were not so easily distracted.

She turned left, her legs aching as she sped up. She ran up a ramp, leaping onto a second rooftop. She slipped, caught herself, and rolled sideways, catching the lip of the roof. She shivered in spite of herself. Her chasers were coming up quickly.

Arcee swore, dived off the building… and transformed.

Her body glided through the motions of transformation with ease: her arms and head compressed cleanly into her chest, her legs twisted around, vehicle armature springing from the insides of her body. Her back unfolded, sprouting turbines and wings; her abdomen compressed and swiveled, and her entire body twirled until it snapped into its final altered form.

The hover car plowed forward, aligning itself with the ground, racing through the streets. The Cybertronian lights whizzed past as Arcee swerved around, darting through alleys and closed street shops. Her vehicle was admittedly not well suited for the rain either, but it was fast, and she had plenty of time to make up.

She heard her pursuers transform as well, their piercing engines revving as they continued the chase. She saw the infamous red-and-blue clad vehicle wing up beside her, its weapons deployed. She was surrounded now; another vehicle had drawn up beside her, with three more flanking her. She sped up and took to the skies, deploying her wings as she did so. Three of her opponents transformed again and drew weapons; evidently they did not possess full flight. The other two joined her in the air, their weapons firing.

She steadied her ascent and continued to move forward, her engine humming along as she did so. The other two kept pace right with her, attempting to squeeze and stop her momentum. The rain beat harder now, hail-like, and Arcee had to fight it to remain in the air. Her exterior was frozen solid, and the two vehicles on either side of her were beginning to wane under the constant hailstorm. They tried another collision… and Arcee stopped her engine, dropping like a brick to the ground.

She did not see what happened to her enemies, nor did she care. She had not planned this out very well. Her exterior was so cold and stiff that transformation was now a chore in and of itself. She screamed as her body contorted itself back into robot mode; she felt her back and chest pop into position, sparks erupting from contact. Her arms and legs unfolded painfully and assembled themselves sloppily, ice popping out of her joints. Lastly, her head sprang up from its recessed hiding place, and her eyes widened as she saw how close she was to the ground.

She managed to cushion her fall slightly by landing on her side, cruising along a slick roof before finally hitting and bouncing off of a lip, landing a second time with a clunk. She was out in the open, now, and her body was not doing well. Hail had made her limbs numb and slow, her eyes frosty and her breath stiff with cold. She looked up, and groaned. The other three adversaries had caught up with her, and their weapons were trained at her Spark chamber. Her two aerial attackers were nowhere to be seen, and she was slightly glad of that. She could feel Energon pumping rapidly within her; her head was pounding. She looked at her captors, studying their faces.

"Arcee," said a voice. She had not seen him arrive, and her heart sank. "Stand down. You are outnumbered, wounded, and you have nothing to gain from continuing this pursuit."

She turned, looking up. He was just as she thought he would be: heavy-set, broad-shouldered, and he looked like he could take out a legion of Decepticons with but a glare. She glared right back at him, staring daggers into those crystal blue eyes. His armor was frosted with condensation, the red turned almost pink by the saturation of the color. The blue of his legs was thinning, revealing the silver beneath. His silver abdomen had been bandaged from where he had been stabbed, and his breastplate was cracked and dented. One of his antennae was fractured. His gun hung limply by his side.

"Prime." Arcee spat the word. She got up, wincing as she noticed pain course through her right leg. She looked down. It was not supposed to bend that way. She looked up again, burying the pain beneath her resumed glare at Optimus Prime. She was a good head shorter than he was, her physique much slimmer.

"You cannot fight all of us," Optimus said in a sad tone. His eyes sparkled in the rain. Arcee cocked her head to the left, thinking. She could evade him long enough to take out his men. She could flee; disappearing would not be difficult, she'd done it before. She felt Optimus' eyes studying her face; he knew her plan.

Arcee stared blankly at Optimus' gun arm, wondering how long it would take for him to react to her idea. The sleet and hail whirled around them. She was so cold. Her arms and feet were frozen. High-class marksmen and the leader of the entire Autobot army surrounded her. Was it worth it? Could she pull it off? She'd done battle with Starscream, Bludgeon, Banzaitron, Overlord for Primus' sake! These were not names to be tossed around lightly. Taking out a couple top-notch Autobots and their leader was nothing compared to that! She locked eyes with Optimus.

She smirked as he blinked.

Her kick landed squarely in Prime's groin, sending him down to one knee. Arcee backed up, deploying her knife as she did so. Two of the other Autobots lunged at her, their daggers drawn. She backpedaled. Her first priority was to relieve them of their weapons; she was good, they were better. _Time to prove that wrong_.

One of the Autobots began slinking around, attempting to get behind Arcee. She ducked his blade, flipped, and sent her attacker flying back with a lethal kick. That made her leg hurt even more, it's pain rippling through her circuits like successive shocks. She gritted her teeth as two more marksmen came rushing at her.

She flipped and skidded, momentum carrying her quickly toward her attackers. She reached up and grabbed one's arm, bringing him to the ground. She finished him off with an elbow to the chest. He gasped, his hand springing open, and dropped his weapon. Her third attacker backed away, drawing his blaster as he did so. She turned and tumbled, avoiding the gunfire as best she could, landing behind a raised column of roof. The Autobot advanced, still firing. Her leg was throbbing, the ice was condensing, and her Spark fluttered nervously in her chest. She transformed her arm into its rifle form and fired back, sending up shards of ice between her and her opponents.

She ducked back behind her hiding place. She had to flee. She peered over the side of the raised platform, and was seized by the throat by one of the Autobots. She landed on her back; the wind had been knocked out of her. The Autobot continued his assault, his arm transforming into a bladed weapon. She was able to dodge the first blow, her bladed arm coming up to block. She got up then, spinning and kicking the Autobot in the chest. She plunged her blade into his throat, wrenching it out with such force as to pull out his voice box.

She looked around frantically as her third kill dropped to the floor. Optimus had to be around here somewhere. "Prime," she screamed, turning more frantically now. She shivered furiously. "PRIME!"

"Arcee." Arcee turned hastily, her rifle pointed squarely at Prime's chest. Optimus' tone was even; he was trying to comfort her. "I grieve for you, but I was no more responsible for Cliffjumper's death than you or any other Autobot. Starscream made the kill. You do not need to do this anymore. Please, lower your weapon." Optimus stepped forward, transforming his arm back into its ambulatory form.

"Don't come any closer, Prime." Arcee held her stance. She tried not to shiver. It was very cold. "You sent me and Cliff on a suicide mission. You knew he wouldn't make it back. Starscream finished him off just as an afterthought. He didn't have a chance."

"Cliffjumper's death was indeed tragic, but survivor's guilt will not bring back those we have lost, and yours needs to stop. Now." Optimus' stern eyes pierced Arcee's head like hot needles. "Your desire for revenge is understandable, but the execution of a fellow Cybertronian, be he Autobot or Decepticon, in service of that desire is detestable, and as such, you will need to come with me for a full court martial."

"No." Arcee's eyes narrowed. She felt the rage fill her again, her fists tightening. The rain continued its barrage. She shrugged off a sheet of ice condensing on her shoulder. She relaxed her form, loosening her joints.

"Arcee, please. You aided the enemy." Optimus retracted his faceplate. His mouth was frowning.

"No, the enemy aided me. We killed Starscream. Do you know how much I've done for this team? I killed him. My reasons are irrelevant. I've given you a fighting chance, and now you're going to throw that away just to bring me to court for _helping you_?"

"Your actions are commendable, but working with the Decepticons is an action frowned upon by our faction, and, whether you choose to admit it or not, by you yourself. How would Cliffjumper feel if he knew that the only way to avenge him was to work with those who murdered him?"

She snapped. Her sword swung around, its blade glistening in the light of the rain and the two moons. Optimus saw it coming. Arcee felt the blow of his fist into her abdomen as he reached around, grabbing for her sword arm. She darted the grab, hitting Prime in the back with her elbow. He barely noticed, absorbing the impact and continuing his assault. He twirled around in mid stumble, crashing his right fist against the left side of Arcee's head. She grunted, her head curling against her body in pain.

Optimus' left arm assembled itself at lighting speed into its blaster form, following through with his attack with a sharp blast to Arcee's already-damaged leg. Arcee went down, her leg throbbing. She looked up. He was so much quicker than she was, so much more calculative. He had thought all of it through. He had brought her down with two punches and a single gunshot. She grimaced.

"Are you finished?" Optimus sounded no different than before the fight had begun.

"Not… quite." Arcee was breathing hard. Her stomach throbbed, her leg ached, and her head was pounding. She was so stupid. Why couldn't Megatron have dropped her off at… Tyger Pax, or Miranda II? But he didn't, and after a day, she had run right into Optimus and his crew, right into the man and crew whom she had tried so hard to avoid. She rolled, deploying her shoulder cannons as she went, putting enough distance between herself and Optimus to warrant a firefight.

Firing, Arcee saw Optimus' sword deploy, ripping through her proton bullets like paper. Arcee's sword rose as Optimus ran towards her, his blade connecting with hers. They were locked now. Arcee began hacking away at her opponent, Optimus dodging all of her swipes and thrusts. Optimus' blade came down hard and fast, Arcee's sword coming up just in time, the impact sending shockwaves up her arm. She went down to one knee, her leg on fire. Prime pushed the assault. Arcee did a sloppy tumble, her sword skidding across his, dodging his following downward stroke by luck, and making a slash just under his left eye. Optimus stumbled, and Arcee took her chance. She fired her blaster, the proton bullets connecting with Prime's chest.

Arcee got up, running, elbowing him next in the head. Keeling, Prime made a blind jab with his sword and clipped Arcee's neck. Arcee screamed, her weapons retreating into her arms, her hand shooting out for protection of the wound. Optimus' fist came up for a finishing blow, sending Arcee flying backwards, crashing into the ground. A thin layer of ice shattered beneath her.

She was so tired, so cold, her body curled. "You… killed… Cliff." Her voice was shaky. Her wounds were beginning to drain her.

"Arcee, stand down, and I promise you leniency."

"Leniency?" Arcee's eyes shot upward. "Prime, you sent me and Cliff on a mission from which you knew both of us would surely perish. Except I didn't do that, did I?" Her voice was shaky, her wounds throbbing. She locked eyes with him. "I survived, and you didn't like that. And when I killed Starscream, you didn't like that either, so now here we are, and you'll have to kill me now in order to grant me leniency, because I don't serve you and I certainly don't recognize your faction of government. Not anymore. You're God to those you command, Prime, and you have far too much power.

"Cliff was smart; he knew your lies and deceit and tricks. And then I learned them, too. You're no leader. You're a heretic. You've mutated the Autobots into a force of personal gain. You didn't want Cliff and me in the picture anymore, so you tried to have us killed. That isn't what we were founded upon. Cliff believed in the true Autobots, in what our faction was created to represent. You don't impress that anymore, and Cliff saw that, and I certainly see it in what you did to him." Arcee spat, her blue eyes pulsing with anger.

"You make a compelling argument, Arcee. And I may have overstepped my boundaries in allowing you and Cliffjumper to venture forth into unknown territory in order for the Autobots to be rid of two rogue elements, and for that I am deeply sorry. But you are still held in contempt of the Autobots for aligning yourself with Megatron in an unsanctioned alliance to take down a powerful agent of chaos; a victory perhaps, but a costly one, and one which is not without further repercussions. You must learn to take responsibility for your actions. And don't think that I have not taken responsibility for mine.

"I have had Cliffjumper's death on my mind since your initial foray, and I have indeed questioned my fitting the role of Prime. But my personal demons are no concern of yours, and I _will_ have you sanctioned and under guard, whether you permit it or not. So please, Arcee, let me help you. Let me try to redeem myself for my mistakes by helping you heal. Let me help you recover from your wounds."

Arcee's body was stiff and raw, the rain continually beating down hard, and with great effort she managed to rise, staring at Optimus with loathing. "You sent us to die! What kind of a leader does that? You've slipped, and you cannot ever redeem yourself in my eyes. You want me, fine. But I am not going to go willingly."

"Then you leave me no choice. Arcee, by the power vested in me by the Tyrest Accord, I hereby place you under arrest on charges of corroborating with the enemy, of conducting treason against fellow teammates, and of abandoning your fellow Autobots in the line of duty." Optimus held out the stasis cuffs, their blue bands glistening.

_Burry the pain._

Arcee flipped back twice, putting some distance between herself and Optimus. Her leg was dead weight now, and her neck was throbbing, but she did not care, not so long as Optimus was alive. Her weapons deployed in tandem, and she began firing, trying to keep her balance on the slick pavement.

Optimus dodged the fire with ease, unsheathing his sword and coming at her with a sideswipe. Arcee was nocked off her feet as the flat of the blade made contact with her abdomen, making her trip. Optimus kneed her in the chest, then made a grab for her arm. She rolled, dodging his grab again, and made for his blaster.

Grabbing onto it, she scampered up his bulky form until she was on his back, viciously hacking away at his heavily armored figure. Optimus spun, but Arcee continued her barrage. Groaning in agony, Prime dove, attempting to take Arcee down quickly. Arcee frantically sliced the left side of Prime's helmet before dislodging herself. Both combatants went down hard, each rolling away from the other.

Arcee sprang up first, immediately firing her blaster at the spots on Optimus' back where he had suffered the most damage. Optimus screamed, turning so that his chest absorbed the impact. His physique was in shambles now. Like Arcee, Optimus had been weakened by the cold, and he was starting to succumb to it. Arcee darted forward, tripping Optimus, and scrambling up onto his back once again. She retracted her blaster from her arm, replacing it with a second sword. She slammed it hard into his left shoulder, the sparks and Energon running down his red armor, mixing with the hard rain as he screamed.

She smiled.

With her other sword, she hacked again at Prime's weakened back armor. His blaster retracted, his hand grabbing at air from the pain. "You will not take me alive," she whispered darkly. Arcee's work was devastating. Optimus' shoulder blades were almost completely gone, revealing the complex circuitry and biotech that surrounded the Cybertronian skeleton.

Arcee plunged her sword into his spine, making a precise downward stroke quickly. Optimus jolted upward in pain, his screams piercing the night air. "Enough!" Optimus reached around and tore Arcee off of him, transforming his arm next into its blaster form, firing. Arcee spun uncontrollably on the ground, her body taking in the blasts. Optimus rose, his form smoking, his calm demeanor now replaced with calculative rage. His left arm was limp. Arcee quivered against the ground, her leg's pain returning to her. Optimus walked slowly towards her. "You may add Cybertronian disfiguration to your list of wrongdoings." Optimus' spine smoked, the rain turning to steam as it met his disfigured form.

"And you…" Arcee was out of energy now; she couldn't fight anymore, not well, anyway. "You can go to hell." She twirled off the ground, her blade sweeping across the air.

She would finish him here and now. Her blade made a satisfying slice as Optimus jerked backward, his face contorted. With his remaining functional arm, Optimus made a counter jab with his sword.

Arcee froze. Her body was numb from the chest down. She looked at Optimus. He was glaring. His right eye had been shattered from Arcee's sword swipe. Her sword was jammed between his head and helmet. Arcee and Optimus just stared at each other for the longest time, their wounds manifesting as they did so.

The rain came down hard. It was very cold.

Optimus' sword had sunk deep into Arcee's chest. She could feel her Spark draining. They were at a standstill. Optimus' good eye fluttered between his sword, stuck in Arcee's chest, to Arcee's outstretched arm and sword now impaled in his head. Arcee knew that any major movement would send them both to their deaths. She could deal with it.

Arcee raised her good leg and pried herself away from Optimus. The two swords exited their bodies with grinding agony. Arcee flipped lazily in the air, landing on her stomach. Optimus groped at his head with his good arm. Energon was everywhere, mixing with the rain and sleet. Arcee was dying. Optimus tore off his helmet, wires and armor retracting into his scalp as he did so. Arcee turned her head, the world sideways in her eyes. She saw Optimus topple to the ground a little ways from her. She rolled over onto her back.

Her chest was badly injured. Armor and burnt metal cascaded around her upper body. She felt her Spark pulse gently within her form. She leaned her head back on the ground, taking in the sweet feel of the bitter cold rain. This is how her lights go out? On a rooftop in the dead of night? All of her battles and victories and disobeying the rules and this is where she ends up, getting killed by the leader of her own goddamn faction. Funny, no? And they would find Optimus, and he would be healed, and he wouldn't even give her a second thought. He'd be glad to be rid of her. She hated him so much.

She would die. No one would care. All the people who loved her were dead. She would join them soon. So very soon… Cliff. She would see him again. And Tailgate, and Rodimus. All of them. She wouldn't be alone. Not anymore. Her legacy didn't matter. All of her battles and carnage all for nothing. She closed her eyes. _Take me. Take me now._ She smiled. The rain beat against her chassis, cold and stiffening. She had won.

"Arcee? Respond."

Arcee opened her eyes. Optimus was bent low, holding her in his arms. "Prime…"

"I have called for rescue. You will be healed." Optimus' eyes found hers.

"Not today. You've granted me leniency." She coughed, her eyes squeezing shut. The rain collected around the two Autobots. "I'm seeing Cliff soon."

"Arcee, I'm sorry… so, so sorry… for everything." Optimus' eyes glistened beautifully in the rain.

"I… am sorry too, Prime. I ask only that you fulfill this favor: Tell my story to those who would ask. Tell it truthfully, would you? Tell of the ill as well as the good; Primus knows there is a lot of the ill in mine. And allow my judgment to pass accordingly. The rest… is silence."

Optimus closed his eyes. He bent low, caressing Arcee's head. "You have lived a warrior and have died a believer. May your Spark join the Matrix as the greatest of Cybertron."


End file.
